


Fly Solo on the Double

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1000-3000 words, 1000-5000 Words, Anal Play, Crossover, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Iowa, Multi, One Night Stand, Season/Series 03, Spanking, Threesome, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I know my destination / Nothing's gonna stop me now. / I'm running on desire / Baby, I've got nerves of steel.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Solo on the Double

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://feeferj.livejournal.com/profile)[**feeferj**](http://feeferj.livejournal.com/)'s [prompt](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/63635.html?thread=691347#t691347) "Dean/Rogue/Sam and kinky sex." I'm not sure how kinky this got, but when your baseline is a threesome with brothers, that sets the bar pretty high! Title, summary, and cut tag from the song "[A Ways to Go](http://www.6lyrics.com/music/emmylou_harris/lyrics/a_ways_to_go.aspx)," by Lainie Marsh (most famously performed by Emmylou Harris on the album _Cowgirl's Prayer_).
> 
> **Spoilers:** For _Supernatural_, though the end of season 3; for _X-Men_, _The Last Stand_.

She never saw the old Harvelle's, but Logan has told her about it: unglamorous; seedy in appearance; floors, fixtures, and walls battered by hundreds, thousands of hands and feet passing through over the years.

Somehow, improbably, the heart of a contentious but inextricably bound community.

The new Harvelle's is far away both in geography and appearance, but as Marie sits at the bar, trying to trace together a pattern of disappearances in Dubuque, she can see that the roadhouse's essential function, at least, has not changed. The people—mostly but not without exception men—come here for rest, refreshment, information, and the woman behind the bar keeps the peace, keeps the traffic flowing. A great lady, Logan had said, then added his highest praise: a tough broad.

Tough Ellen Harvelle is, but she'd still smiled when Marie mentioned Logan's name.

That's not an uncommon reaction, but Marie likes Ellen too much to be jealous.

She's taken a break from the disappearances and is reading something completely non-hunt-related—_The Cider House Rules_, by John Irving—when they walk in.

Ellen doesn't greet them merely like friends—it's more than that. She shakes the taller one's hand, then pulls him into a hug, but she puts her hands on the other man's face, looking at him as though she can't quite believe he's real—then she pulls back abruptly, and when she turns to get their drinks, the room's dim light shines as brightly off her tears as it does off the surface of the glasses. But her face is even when she turns around and says, "It's good to see you boys. What are you working on?"

+||+||+

 

Two days later, they've exorcised the spirit of an American Nazi collaborator from Dubuque Senior High School and saved the life of the latest teenaged boy he'd lured into its basement. They find their way back to the roadhouse, and then they find their way upstairs.

They're gorgeous naked: Sam is taller, with long legs and broad shoulders; Dean is not a small man, but he almost looks that way next to Sam. They're both muscular, covered in scars that tell of a lifetime at this work. Dean comes to stand behind her, runs callused hands gently over her skin, exploring her leisurely before settling on her breasts, his skin rough but his touch light on her nipples. "You haven't been doing this long," he observes in a conversational murmur. "Not enough scars. But you were doing something before this, pretty obvious just by watching you fight."

"It's a long story," Marie says, then gasps as his fingers find their way between her legs.

Sam stalks over to take Dean's face in his hands—enormous, with long, elegant fingers—and the two men kiss, so fiercely that it might be the first time, but with clear familiarity that says that it isn't.

When he kisses Marie, she can still taste Dean on his tongue.

+||+||+

 

She's never used her fingers on a man before (granted, her window of opportunity for experience has been narrow), but it turns out Dean loves that, loves lying sprawled on the bed, a pillow under his hips, ass in the air, as she uses first one, then two, then three, and then even four fingers as he arches and moans. Sam sits behind her, cradling her; his voice in her ear is low, but she knows Dean can hear him. "Wish you had a strap-on, could bend him over and fuck him like that. He'd love it." Sam strokes her clit, and her own movement falters as she gasps in pleasure. "Would you like that?" Sam goes on. "Would you like to see him underneath you, strung out because it feels so good?"

"Yes," she moans, and Sam kisses her neck.

"Good girl," he says. "Take your fingers out—don't want him to come too soon."

"Bastard," Dean gasps.

Sam laughs. "Only if you are," he says, then to Marie, "Spank him for a while. He loves that." She turns around, surprised; Sam's face is serene as he nods. "He does. You won't be hurting him—not in a way he doesn't want, anyway."

Dean hides his face, and she almost refuses, but his cry of helpless pleasure at the first one convinces her.

To her shock, he raises his ass for the spanking, begging for it wordlessly, asking for more and then grinding into the bed when she gives it to him. And all the while Sam is talking to him: "Don't come yet, Dean. You're not done. I know you want to, but don't." And Dean obeys, and Marie keeps going until her palm stings; then Sam runs a hand across Dean's reddened ass and says, "That's enough. Turn over."

A day ago, she wouldn't have believed it, but she's aroused from this, so hot and slick that when she slides down onto Dean, there's no pain, just the fullness of him inside her. Their rhythm together is sweet and perfect, with the backbeat of Sam's soft voice, his commands to both of them. He reaches down to rub tight, coaxing circles on Marie's clit, and it's a perfect counterpoint: Dean's cock hard, deep inside, and Sam's touch, light and expert. She's got her own hands on her breasts, and the pleasure is almost too much, overwhelming, taking her from all sides. "Is that good?" Sam asks, and all she can do is nod. "It looks like it. Alright, Marie, come for me, come for Dean, let us see you. Let him feel you on his cock—" and she does, hard, falling apart under Sam's touch, hearing Dean gasp as her climax takes hold of her, as she contracts around him until she can't go any more. And then she gets to watch Dean's face contort in pleasure, watch as he sinks his teeth into his lower lip as orgasm washes over him. It's long and shuddering, with one of his hands fisted tight in the sheets, knuckles white, while the other clenches so hard on her thigh that she's sure it will leave a bruise.

She collapses, panting, but he's not done; instead, he turns to face Sam, and Sam spreads his legs so that Dean can suck his cock into his mouth. Marie's too spent to be aroused by it, but it's a beautiful sight, Dean's closed eyes, Sam's hands as he strokes Dean's hair. It doesn't take long, and Marie listens contentedly to Sam's gasps as he comes, then watches as he falls forward and kisses Dean, licking himself out of Dean's mouth.

She falls asleep between them, exhausted and warm, and her last thought before she loses consciousness is that she has to email Jubilee about this, except that Jubilee will never believe her.

+||+||+

 

She wakes up alone, which is simultaneously a disappointment and a relief: If every one-night stand has its share of awkwardness, a threesome with a couple (and a male couple, at that) could entail nuclear-strength awkwardness. She stretches; finds the bathroom at the end of the hall and showers and dresses; then strips the sheets off the bed, gathers her things, and goes downstairs.

It's early enough in the morning that the bar area is empty. She's not sure how to settle up for the room: This obviously isn't a hotel, and Sam and Dean were clearly friends of Ellen's; still, Marie feels as though she owes the woman something. She finds a mop and goes over the floors in the bar and in the back room, then hauls the trash bags left by the back door over to the dumpster.

She's looking for her keys when she sees the note tucked into a pocket of her backpack. In angular handwriting: _If you need anything_, and then the names Sam and Dean, and two phone numbers. She smiles, folds it carefully, and puts it into her wallet. She prefers to hunt alone, but it's good to have allies.

She finds her keys, gets in her truck, and heads for route 61. The next hunt is in Wyoming, and she's got miles to go.

**Author's Note:**

> The American Nazi collaborator from Dubuque was a real person: [Frederick Kaltenbach](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_William_Kaltenbach). The school where he taught, [Dubuque Senior High School](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dubuque_Senior_High_School), still exists, but to the best of my knowledge his ghost has never haunted it.


End file.
